FAT CHANCE

HURT

You always read about it in the papers. It’s always in a town not too far away from you, to a girl who could be you. And you never think it’s gonna happen. Because you say “I love myself. I’m content”. (Beat.) You hear about it on the news, happening to some young girl your age. But you say “That’s not gonna happen to me. I love myself. I’m content.”(Beat.) You see it happening in your world to people around you. You see them wither away into dust piles that don’t go when the wind blows. And you say “This is a lie. This is not real. That’s never gonna be me. I love myself. I’m content.”(Beat.) But then you look in the mirror, and what do you see?

                                                           

ADDICTION

Fat.

                                                                        POWER

Blubber.

                                                                        SACRIFICE

Monster.

                                                                        HURT

Animal. (Beat.)Ugliness, Spilling out of you like a waterfall and you can’t help but think “How can anyone love me?” And you try to wash yourself in tears and hope it all goes to hell on its way down the kitchen sink. But it don’t. It stays; it clings to your body like a parasite. And you’re hurting. (Beat.) Your hurting me…(Pause.) “I love myself. I’m content”… I’m hurting.

                                                                       

Fairytales are for Little Girls with no Self-Esteem

It’s like a fairy tale when it starts. You’re innocent and young. You believe in things and have wishes. You have dreams and hope. You wish on stars and pray to the night sky that everything is going to be ok.

You start as child who has nothing but their innocence in a brown bag and you clean the gutters to survive. People around you put you down, or lock you away… And you’re hurt like a flower being cut from the sun. But you still continue to think that there is good in people, and you dream of things. Things every girl dreams. Things every girl has except you. And then you meet your fairy godmother. And she says she’s gonna make it all come true. She grants your wishes, and you’re happy. All your dreams come true…you’re at the ball, and you’re dancing with the prince and you’re beautiful and no one can touch you. But then it ends. The clock strikes midnight and you die. You die and die so hard when you’re dead you are still dying. You wither away, wither away back into the girl you were before. But you are no longer innocent. You are no longer young, and pure and happy. The price to be in a fairy tale just for a moment, is to live in a nightmare forever more. (Beat.) Is it worth it?

This is not for me.

I'm not going to break down.
I'm not going to beg on my knees,
i'm not going to take you lying down,
And i will not scream saying "please".
I am not going to fight you,
But i am not going quitely.
I am not to resist you,
but i'm not going to except it.
i am not going to be strong,
But i'm not going to break as easily.
Im not gonig to cry.
No.

This is not my poem.
This is just a poem about me.
And you?
Well..
I'm not going bring you down like you did.
Because unlike you , I'm a human being.

Little Girls

I only eat air.

I only eat air.
I only chew gum.
I only wear heels.
I only love no one.
I only drink tears.
I only run catwalks.
I only think what they tell me.
I only know their words.
I only say scripted words,
I only eat air.
But you just don't care.

S.A.C.R.I.F.I.C.E

Something you all need to know.

When you're full of disgusting lard,
and your guilt buckles under your fat, tree trunk theighs
and you replaced will power with calories,
you march yourself over to me,
embrace my thrown
and pray to your Porcalian God.

Stick those sausage fingers of your
all the way down to your asophagus and
Give me your treason.

let your innocence commit sucide for me.
Slice your throat and let those indulgent calories poor out.
It's only alittle blood, You'll survive.
I want you to cry into me.
Give me your tears.
Give me your childhood.
Everything from your past..I'll take that too.
You must sacrifice everything for your sin.
You're a catastrophy.
You tratior.
No power.
No strength.
all you are is a fat soul.
I'll take that too, by the way.
I'm like the devil, but twice as powerful.
More addicting than Cocaine.
More needy than a puppy.
I'm everything.
I am everything you want to be, but because you have no will power you can never be me.
I am the Procelain God.
So bend to your knees and WORSHIP ME.

I'm sorry Anna...

I'm sorry Anna.
I tried.
I tried to stop them..but they just shoved it down.
Down
Down
Down
to hell with all my hopes of being beautiful.
I'm so sorry.
I dissapionted you.
I'm a disapiontment.
I'm ugly.
Im a spalttered bug on your windshield.
Go on, flick me off.
Wash me away in the water of discontent and
whipe me clean of sins
and splatter me onto the roadside
and let the vaultures eat my inners..
what is left that is.
I am Sorry Anna.
i can never be as beautiful,
as thin,
as perfect as you.
But what i'm most sorry for?
Im sorry, dear perfect Anna,
That i let you capture my uglyness in this photo.
fat.
oozing everywhere.
Why Anna?
Im sorry that im not thin enough.
Sorry Anna.
Sorry.

Pretty People: Hayley (Living with the Enemy)

Do you know what it's like to hate yourself?
To come home every day and be left with the person you can't stand to look at; When that person is your reflection?
Do you know what it feels like to wish to be a bug? Just so you can morph into something beautiful and shed away the ugliness? To fly into the air and be weightless and to know nothing but that feeling?

But bugs are crushed just as often as a girl blinks her eyes...and Every second I have to blink and open to see my own face staring back in the mirror crushes me.

I don't know where I went wrong...Maybe it was the diet pills, or maybe it was the un-supportive friends. But I’ve gone to the beaten path of self hatred and I don't think I will ever get back to the road.

It's so hard to look back at what I once was, and be satisfied. I was smart, pretty, wanted...
Out of all the kids in my pre-school class, I was awarded "MOST OUT-GOING!". I look back at the memories of when i was likable and try to decipher what ruined me...
I am a soiled spirit. Not soiled by lust, or by greed, but soiled by myself.

I have ruined something pure. And I cannot cleanse it.

They say you sacrifice lambs to suffice for the deeds of all the flock. The black sheep is banished to the outskirts of dead-grass land, while the pure innocent is killed to pay for the others sins...

I am the gray Sheep. Both sacrificed for the sins of others and for the sins of my own. My spirit is banished to the outskirts of society.or perhaps just my inner-most thoughts.

Living with the enemy is hard.
Most times it's unbearable. You want to put the paper bag over your head and cover up the eye-sockets so you don't have to face yourself.
You turn away and shutter at the touch of your own flesh and blood and you pray to god to take you away from this body.
You promise the world, you give the world! Anything to not face yourself when the sun rises.

You spray to the god's of Porcelain, and flush your childhood memories and dreams down with your dignity.
You smoke cigarettes until you get cancer, you drink black coffee until you can't stop shaking.
You smash mirrors until you’re satisfied with destroying the figure staring back.

But nothing in this un-fair world will save you from the truth.

Pretty People are made out of Ugly experiences.

I'm not one of those people.
Not today.
Not ever.

Hayley Michelle 15 years old. December 1, 2011.